


she's thunderstorms

by saltytolerance



Series: this heart of mine [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, canon adherent, not quite fluff? like... pre-fluff, that being said it's only a small flashback, the story itself is mostly dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23294215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltytolerance/pseuds/saltytolerance
Summary: “You’re a mage.”Cassandra had intended it as a question, but it comes out as most things do wherever Cassandra is involved: blunt, and unintentionally confrontational.☼The Inquisitor is many things. An archer of no small talent, a skilled herbalist, and, of course, possibly the only hope for Thedas. She is also a liar, or so Cassandra thinks.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast, Female Lavellan/Cassandra Pentaghast
Series: this heart of mine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675318
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	she's thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> **UPDATE 11/01/21:**  
>  \- I've changed the title of the work from "white combs and sweet honey" to "she's thunderstorms". As much as I like the quote, I realised recently that _three_ of my four published works had "sweet" in the title and decided that that was ridiculous.  
> \- The title is, of course, an [arctic monkeys song](https://open.spotify.com/track/5xw2cHVLw1rlDPp3cL9Zuv?si=Toze2hbGTrCfaZt3VY9LIQ). What can I say? I am a dyke of simple tastes.  
> \- I did a full rewrite of this chapter! No major changes, just a few tweaks here and there.  
> \- That being said, we went from 2.7k to 3k words. No really sure how! But we did.
> 
> That's it! Enjoy!

☼

“You’re a mage.”

Cassandra had intended it as a question, but it comes out as most things do wherever Cassandra is involved: blunt, and unintentionally confrontational.

She stands at the top of the stairs to the Inquisitor’s quarters, arms folded and eyes searching.

She’s only been inside once, before. And that had been when Skyhold had still been a crumbling ruin, all cobwebs and half-collapsed rooms. But any hint of that Skyhold is gone now. The room, as it now stands is very… _Riley_.

The furniture seems to have been picked out by the Inquisitor herself, much to Enchanter Vivienne’s appal, Cassandra is sure; it’s a colourful mishmash, armchairs seemingly dragged in from opposite sides of Thedas crammed before the fireplace. A single, lonely tea table holds - Cassandra counts - _eight_ different sets of cards. One of them bears a large bloodstain. Various furs drape the bed and sofa, which are otherwise obscured by a multitude of knick-knacks that Riley hasn’t managed to squeeze onto every other surface. 

Simply put, it is a mess. 

But the mess is _welcoming_ , somehow, if a mess could ever be considered such a thing.

Riley sits by her desk, legs propped up, reading a book. She doesn’t look up when Cassandra speaks, but instead smiles like they’ve just shared an inside joke.

“Nice to see you too, Cassandra. Do come in, take a seat,” she lilts, and finally looks up, “drag me off to a circle.” She shuts the book. She’s still smiling.

Cassandra does not roll her eyes. If she did so every time the Inquisitor’s every dramatic overture, she would never _un_ roll them. 

Before Cassandra had learned of the Inquisitor’s inability to be serious, Cassandra was convinced she was constantly mortally offending the elf. Now, she simply ignores the bait, and goes to stand by the desk.

“You do not deny it, then?” she unfolds her arms – some small attempt to make this seem less like an interrogation. Because, truly, that is not her intention.

“Nope.” Riley says, popping the ‘p’. She puts the book down, and instead picks up a ratty-looking quill from atop a half-finished letter. She twirls it absentmindedly.

Cassandra frowns. She’d been ready for more resistance. Some infuriating attempt to talk around the topic. This, she is sure, is the Inquisitor’s favourite pastime save, perhaps, teasing Cassandra.

As if in response to these thoughts, Riley meets Cassandra’s gaze, waiting for her next words.

“You are a mage,” Cassandra begins slowly, “yet you do not use magic often. Or ever, it seems. Why?”

Riley’s answering scoff speaks for her. _Circles, demons, templars_. Cassandra’s frown deepens.

“Being an apostate is a human concern, no? I would imagine you were safe among your clan. So I do not think a fear of templars is what stops you.” she fixes Riley with a look. “Am I wrong?”

Riley stops fiddling with the quill. “Hm.”

She seems to be deliberating. A strange tension fills the air, and Cassandra rests a hand against the hilt of her sword. A habit that makes just about everyone nervous, she is told, but one she can’t seem to shake regardless.

“Kind of.” she half-grins, “But you’re making assumptions here. Which, y’know, fair. I’m exactly not giving you much to go on, here.”

Cassandra crosses her arms, shoulders squared. “No, you are not.” Impatience colours her tone. 

She should know better than to show annoyance, it only ever seems to delight and encourage Riley. But Cassandra’s never been good at hiding her emotions. Honest to a fault, she’d been called.

As if to confirm, Riley’s smile becomes knowing. A beat passes, and she looks back down at the desk, amusement draining. She fiddles with the quill a bit more, before finally setting it down.

“Riley.” Cassandra prompts.

Riley starts, expression momentarily unshielded. And that expression seems… anxious. But it’s gone before Cassandra can be certain.

“Okay, fine. I… guess I should start by saying I also surprised myself, casting magic mid-battle like some sort of… _mage_ .” At Cassandra’s raised eyebrows, she rolls her eyes and waves a hand, “ _Obviously_ I’ve known I had magic since I was a child. But I kinda… haven’t cast a spell since then. Not on purpose, anyhow. So it’s not like I’ve been hiding my being a super powerful mega mage or something this whole time because really… I’m not. I’m an archer. That’s my thing.”

“I’m aware.” the words aren’t as harsh this time. Almost soft.

“It was an accident, if you can believe it.” Riley’s voice is uncharacteristically subdued. Then, as she catches the look on Cassandra’s face her voice becomes loud again, joking, “But, y’know, it’s a good accident! What with me not dying.”

“Riley…”

She meets Cassandra’s eyes. Seconds pass, and the bravado fades. Cassandra can feel old hurt rise somewhere within her, and she’s sure it’s showing in her eyes, the set of her jaw. Because, really, it _still_ hurts. The memory of that day is not a pleasant one, and Cassandra feels the pain again, now, of thinking she’d just watched the Inquisitor die, _again_ , unable to do a thing about it.

They’d been down to the last of their elfroot stores, the battle-weary party throwing the last of their strength at a red templar behemoth. The battlefield was littered with its fallen fellows, shards of red lyrium thrumming discordantly, buzzing unpleasantly under Cassandra’s skin. She could only imagine what it did to the templars. Drove them mad, probably. Before they’d ever tasted it. She almost pitied them. Almost.

Breathing heavily over the fresh corpse of what she thought was the last of them, Cassandra wrenched her sword out of its semi-crystallised body. She watched, transfixed, as lyrium-tainted blood bubbled up from the thing.

Then, a movement, in the corner of her eye. A cry, followed by the bloom of red. It soaked the Inquisitor’s tunic, and dripped off the crystal-coated arm of the creature standing over her.

From across the field, Cassandra met Riley’s gaze. It was confused. Hurt. Cassandra felt her whole body go cold. Seconds passed. Empires rose and fell, and Cassandra watched the Inquisitor collapse in slow motion.

There’s a flurry of arrows and magic and Cassandra thinks _late, too late_ , and the stupid thing doesn’t stand a chance once she’s buried her blade in its neck. And it’s all red, so red. Lyrium and blood and the bone-deep ache of something she refused to accept.

It fell with a heavy, shattering thump.

Cassandra turned, but the movement was slow. Frightened. Riley was there, and before Cassandra could think she’d scooped her crumpled body into her arms. She’d always been pale. But now her skin looked translucent, devoid of colour.

She was breathing. Sharp, ragged breaths that had Cassandra crushing the elf to her chest in stark relief, only pulling back when Riley let out a pained yelp. 

_Sorry_ , she’d murmured.

She tried not to look at the blood. Crimson soaking her shirt, her coat, leaving red streaks on Cassandra’s armour. She tried not to let the panic clawing up the back of her throat overwhelm her.

She’d called out to the others, who’d come rushing over in various states of injury. For elfroot, healing, _anything_.

Nothing.

_I’m sorry, seeker_ , Varric had said. His face was drawn, like he was already mourning.

The Inquisitor’s hand was pressed to her wound, the green of the mark lost in the red. Cassandra placed her own atop it, ignored Riley’s groan of protest. She could _still-_

And then, the red was gone. And there was white. White, brilliant light, from beneath Cassandra’s hand. The air buzzed unmistakably with magic.

It was utterly unlike the magic of the mark. Different from the sickly green of the anchor. It was vital, verdant.

When Riley used the mark to close rifts the air became… odd. Wrong. Something hungry, that pulled like an ocean current at anyone who stood to close. But this, Cassandra intuitively knew, was Riley. Not the mark. Not Vivienne, who’d stopped frantically looking through her bag for one last store of lyrium and instead just stood, watching. She could not tell her expression for the hazy threat of tears in her eyes.

Between the journey back to Skyhold and its usual barrage of problems greeting them upon their return, it was difficult for Cassandra to get time alone to speak with the Inquisitor, let alone to sort through the mess of her thoughts.

She’d been lost, at first. The wound of the memory was still fresh, and it twinged around every breath. Then, she felt an entirely different kind of hurt. Hurt, that Riley had kept something so important from her. She’d had plenty of opportunities to say so. They were friends, were they not?

But now, seeing the Inquisitor right before her, hale and whole, she simply wishes to understand.

Finally, Riley breaks the silence: “Would you believe the healers were unimpressed? They think I did a bad job.” she smiles wanly.

Cassandra frowns, then sighs. She would find her stubborn commitment to flippancy annoying, were she not so enamoured with the woman. A rather poor decision on her heart’s behalf, frankly.

“Riley. If you do not wish to answer the question, you can just say so.” she says, trying to inject some kindness into her voice, “I know I may come across as… brash, but truly, I do not mean to push–”

“Okay, fine. I’m really rubbish at magic.” Riley blurts, then rubs her neck. She looks away.

Cassandra lets out a startled laugh, surprising even herself. Though her expression softens at Riley’s answering smile. It’s a shy thing, almost. Warm.

“You’re not meant to laugh! I’m sensitive about this!” Riley cries, even as she, too, is laughing, “I’m serious, though. It’s embarrassing. The keeper tried to teach me but I was just… totally useless. I couldn’t light a candle, much less fling fireballs around a battlefield. And healing, well… I think it hurt more than it helped.”

She shrugs, and her smile fades into something small and self-conscious.

“Would you believe both of my parents were mages?”

“Now? I would, yes.” Cassandra’s voice is soft, an odd ache developing in her chest.

Riley rests her chin on a fist, and looks out at the line of mountains just visible through the doors to the balcony, her expression pensive. Ignoring the chair in front of her, Cassandra rests lightly against the edge of the desk.

“Honestly, I know humans seem to have the idea in their heads that all keepers are these ancient mystical mages that are all kindly and wise, but… ours was just plain mean.” she laughs, “She always looked just about ready to brain me with her staff every time I messed up my casting. It didn’t really help that I was a poor student, I suppose. Y’know, I’d convinced myself that she would one day demand my parents try again, make her a competent first. Third time’s the charm, and all.”

The smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Finally, Lux – my brother, took pity on me. Taught me how to wield a bow. Made me actually useful.”

Cassandra is quiet, then. She’d heard from Leliana that Riley’s brother had died at the conclave. She doesn’t wish to poke a sore wound, doesn’t know how to make it better. Given her reluctance to ever bring up her own brother, she really doesn’t think it’s her place to talk. So she says nothing.

She had never been any good with delicate things. And though by no stretch does she consider the Inquisitor a delicate woman, there’s something there. Something fragile. And she does not wish to break it.

Riley straightens, places her palms flat on the desk. She turns back to Cassandra, expression hesitant, almost. Like she’s afraid of what she might say.

Cassandra finds herself unthinkingly placing a hand over Riley’s. She feels the dormant thrum of the mark respond to her touch, like a startled animal.

“Thank you,” she says, squeezing lightly, “for telling me.”

Pink dusts the tips of Riley’s ears, her cheeks. Eyes averted, she flips her hand over, so their palms touch, fingers briefly interlocking. She squeezes back, just as quickly, and withdraws the hand, running it through her hair.

The closely-cropped bristles from Haven have since grown into a set of strawberry blonde curls that spring back into place one Riley puts her hand down. Cassandra idly imagines her own hand carding through those locks.

“Yeah, well.” Riley clears her throat, “I’m sure you’d bully it out of me sooner or later.”

Cassandra chuckles. “You’ll find we’re both equally bull-headed in our own respects. I once heard Varric call us a pair of brick walls, and talking to us like trying to herd nugs through said walls. Though that may have been just because you refused to tell him what the Iron Bull’s tell is during games of Wicked Grace.”

She laughs, “It’s so obvious! I can’t believe he was mad about that. A real wordsmith, that one.” She pauses, a smile pointed in your direction, “Though you have to admit, I’m the more charismatic of the two brick walls.”

“Of that, there is no doubt.” Cassandra sighs, “I do not understand how you can be so… proficient at talking to nobles. How you can make any sense of the Game, but _choose_ not to. How you can be so _charming_ to those people.” she gestures, half frustrated.

“What, just because I’m a Dalish savage I can’t _talk good_?” she says, mock hurt, and laughs at Cassandra’s answering scowl. “Yeah, I know. You didn’t mean it like that. To answer your question… you think I’m charming?” she leans forwards and folds her arms on the desk, grinning wickedly.

“You are doing this on purpose–” Cassandra protests.

Riley laughs again, a warm, light sound. “Oh Cassie, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of teasing you.”

“Maker,” Cassandra huffs, cheeks warm, “I rather wish you would.”

Even so, Riley’s grin is infectious, and Cassandra finds herself smiling back. They stay just like that for a short, sweet moment. The afternoon sun is warm on Cassandra’s back.

At some point, Cassandra had leaned forwards, a hand braced against the desk. Riley is close, she realises.

She can make out individual lashes framing her eyes, freckles dotting her face. Everything about her is warm, like sitting by a lit hearth on a cold night. Her eyes, usually so dark, are liquid gold in the dying light.

Cassandra had always known, objectively, that the Inquisitor is a beautiful woman. She’d been good at ignoring it, at first. Or rather, compartmentalising, as she’d put it. Simply judging the woman on her merits, how she conducts herself within the Inquisition.

It had been a sharp thing, at first. Conversations had been painful, words and misunderstandings needling at one another. Over time, however, Riley’s edges had softened, worn by Cassandra’s own. She saw the genuine desire to do good within her, beneath the abrasive exterior. 

Riley could joke all she wanted, but she couldn’t hide it now. Helping refugees in Redcliffe, risking her life to evacuate those left at Haven.

In the downtime between each small cataclysm, a tentative friendship had bloomed between the two. A sense of camaraderie that can only come from so many shared battles.

Cassandra isn’t naïve, however; She knows infatuation when she feels it. Even if she’s seldom acted on it in the past. She certainly has no reason to do so now, with Riley – with the _Inquisitor_. Both have roles to fulfil, duties to uphold. Cassandra’s feelings would only confuse things, surely.

And yet, despite her best efforts, they make themselves known in odd moments like this. A bittersweet thing fluttering in her chest. The thought that she would like to kiss Riley crosses her mind, and stays there. It would be nice to close the gap. To feel, rather than see Riley’s smile against her lips.

She realises, then, that she’s been staring. For far too long.

With a monumental effort, Cassandra turns her head away, and clears her throat.

“I… thank you for talking with me, Inquisitor.” She stands abruptly, and her body feels warm, her thoughts fuzzy, “I - I had better go.”

She glances over to the balcony, where the last rays of golden light stream in. The cool mountain air calls to her.

A moment passes, and Cassandra realises Riley is quiet. She turns back to face her. Her eyes are unreadable and, as they meet, her expression melts into an easy one. Her lips lift in a smile. Her eyes, however, remain strange. Unreachable.

“Alright.” Riley says, and picks her book back up.

Cassandra doesn’t move, even as Riley begins to read again. She feels strange. Drunk, almost. 

“Good book?” she says, awkwardly.

Riley glances up, and her eyes are warm again. She looks amused and… exasperated, almost. “Not as good as your trashy romances, I imagine.” she teases. She smiles at Cassandra’s answering eye roll. She is known to, on occasion, indulge. “It is, actually. A good book.”

Cassandra nods, gestures for her to continue.

“It’s… not trashy. But it _is_ a romance.” she admits.

Cassandra’s eyes widen, “ _You-_ ”

“Remember when everyone was really shocked about your smutty literature addiction? Yeah. That means you don’t get to be surprised at me!” she says quickly, before Cassandra can get any further than that single, shocked syllable.

“I… suppose not.” Cassandra relents, “Though I admit I did not think you capable of being embarrassed, given your obsession with embarrassing others.”

“I’m not embarrassed!”

“Of course.” Cassandra can’t help but feel a small vindictive thrill, then. For finally being the one to tease Riley, for once. Even so, she lets it go before the elf inevitably turns the tables back on her.

The lull in the conversation is more comfortable this time, though the tension from before is not quite gone. It’s background noise, though. Easy to ignore.

“Really, though, I had best return. I’m sure there’s some disaster that requires my immediate attention.” Cassandra sighs.

“Of course, Seeker.” Riley nods, her smile lazy.

“Then… I will see you soon, Inquisitor.”

“That you will.”

Once out of sighs of the Inquisitor, though not yet out of the tower itself, Cassandra presses a hand to her chest. _Andraste preserve me_. That woman is going to be the end of her.

☼

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write something for these ladies for _forever_ and I finally got round to it! 
> 
> I'll be writing more of these two in the future! In a series, rather than chapters, though. Rather because I wanna just write snippets, and I wouldn't really know how to go about connecting them in an interesting way if this were episodic.
> 
> Anyways! Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> [[Twitter](https://twitter.com/bees4teens)]
> 
> ♡


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